


Human Instinct

by vogue91



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Animal Instincts, F/M, Hurt, Introspection, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 17:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13816164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: The raw awareness, that night, had made him more of a monster than he already was, more inhuman than he already felt when he looked in the mirror.





	Human Instinct

The raw awareness, that night, had made him more of a monster than he already was, more inhuman than he already felt when he looked in the mirror.

A monster, a monster that couldn’t be loved.

A monster that _she_ saw as such, and as such treated.

He had tried to say himself that it was just a lie, that she hid what she felt behind a wall of solid stone, that no one was allowed to cross.

But Spike had hit that wall, breaking it, being harmed while trying, and realizing sadly that there was nothing that could interest him behind it, just pure emptiness, the abyss where Buffy was slowly sinking.

He went out the crypt, driven by instinct before reason, feeling the anger running through his veins, blended with the venom of the Slayer’s words.

 

_“You’re a monster, and I will never love you.”_

_“I’m the monster, Buffy? Or you are? Let’s think about it, think about what I’m doing and what you are. Something tells me that the roles have been swapped, haven’t they?” he had kept silent for a moment, and when he had started talking again he was more resolute than ever. “I help your little friends hunting down my own race, and you don’t know how much of a risk that is for me. And you... you hide behind your past, you wear it like a dress and pretend that you’re still the same. And yet if you went and started killing people, I don’t think any of us would be too surprised!” he yelled, with a hatred that he didn’t even know he felt._

_She looked at him, and she couldn’t even react._

_She turned her back to him and started getting away, making her steps echo in that empty alley, a sound macabre and distressing._

_“You help my friends because you’re forced to. You don’t have a soul, and you never will. What you believe you feel, it’s because of that damn chip.” she turned again. “Your soul is manmade, Spike. And I would_ never _want to be like you.” she finished, then she left, leaving the vampire alone with his guilt and his thoughts._

Remembering that argument, still deeply hurt by the girl’s words, who thought she could understand what he was going through, he went toward the cemetery.

The smell of human blood hit him, strong as a million daggers stuck in his chest, sharp, acrid.

And terribly alluring.

He had kept smelling it for months, without being able to react to that thirst, to quench it, to satiate himself like any other vampire.

He ran, hoping he could run out of oxygen, pretending that he needed to breathe.

He had never felt so much like an animal, nor more human.

There was reality surrounding him, he could touch it, smell it and he wanted to taste it.

Suffocating in other people’s blood what she had done to him, showing to her that he could truly be a man, and being one in every sordid aspect.

A vampire is bloodthirsty by nature, a man by choice.

And he was ready to make this choice.

He saw the source of that heavenly smell in a girl walking through the woods outlining the cemetery.

Spike saw in her every detail of fear, the walk made of little and short steps, her breath short, her gaze fidgeting.

And her heart, that pumped blood at a speed he would’ve thought impossible for such a minute being.

A feline jump and he was on her. His head started hurting, with the usual reaction of the chip to violence. He gritted his teeth and resisted, staying strong with the screams of that stupid human that tried to struggle.

He uncovered her throat easily, and as soon as he was on the verge of biting her, it was like a breach had opened in his brain.

He screamed loud, he held his temples tight, writhing like a madman.

The girl took advantage of it and ran, leaving behind that hunter suddenly become prey.

He collapsed on the ground, waiting for the pain to go away.

It was flagging, and with it the hopes of being the one he once was were gone as well. The William Spike that couldn’t think, just follow his instincts, like any self-respecting animal.

He suffered, and he suffered for the wrong reasons. In his mind there wasn’t blood anymore, there wasn’t the hunt, nor that girl just slipped from his fingers.

His mind was full of _her_ , like a demon to whom he would’ve wanted to gift a sacrifice, always poorly appreciated. He hated her, all of a sudden, for she was the maker of his all ailments, with her spiteful looks, slightly ironical, almost pitiful at times.

She adorned herself with a humanity that she knew she didn’t possess, and Spike hated her for it.

He hated her also because he couldn’t not love her, and because that love was insane to the roots, and was poisoning him.

One should’ve never known love. Keep hoping in it, but that it’d never come.

And he, who had never hoped to feel something so debilitating, had been hit by hit with a hundred times the strength.

All he desired was to suffocate it, to eradicate it from himself with any mean he had.

Her hateful word hadn’t erased, nor he could drown it in blood.

And, he knew it, he wasn’t going to be able to ignore it either.

He stayed motionless, lying down, staring at the black of the sky as if it was a reflection of the soul he had ineluctably lost.

William Spike had separated himself from his body, disgusted by that reality that tasted like defeat.

He was undergoing the slow transformation into man, a man torn in half between his rational and instinctive side.

But a man that had only one thing in common with animals: a mad craving for possession.

And all he wanted to possess, was now part of a darkness that he couldn’t reach anymore.

Spike hated the light. And yet, he was imprisoned in it.

And it burned.

 

_Odi et amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris_

_Nescio, sed fieri sentio, et excrucior._   


End file.
